The Invitation
by Hot elf
Summary: When Harry runs into Draco Malfoy in the showers after a friendly Quidditch game, he's surprised to receive a very cordial invitation for dinner at Malfoy Manor. And there are more surprises in store... Set ten years after the war, and yes, I'm completely ignoring the epilogue.
1. Chapter 1

**The Invitation**

"Looking good, Potter."

Harry swivelled around at the sound of the all-too familiar drawl. "Malfoy!"

Draco Malfoy was leaning against a shower stall in all his bare, blond glory, clad in nothing but a towel that he'd slung loosely around his waist. Harry swallowed hard and tried not to blush but, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't keep his eyes from roving downwards.

"It's all right, Potter." Yup, there was the characteristic smirk, too. "Look all you want, I don't mind. I rather enjoy the view myself. You've made an effort to keep fit, I see."

Malfoy stepped closer, extending a hand to lightly touch Harry's broad shoulders. Harry's mind was racing as he tried to come up with a witty answer. What kind of game was Malfoy playing? Why had he stayed behind until the two of them were alone in the showers?

Two months ago, Ron had called Harry to tell him about the Quidditch match planned for their ten-year class reunion. "Two teams, each mixed from all the houses. Just for old times' sake, you know?" Harry had been just as enthusiastic as his friend. This had been the perfect opportunity to meet all the others again and to relive the good times they'd had. Much better than just sitting around and talking.

It hadn't come as a big surprise when he and Malfoy had ended up as the seekers of the two opposing teams. As a matter of fact, it had been exhilarating to face his old rival again. When he'd stolen away the Snitch right from under Draco's hands, he had felt the same triumph he had back at school. For all that they'd outgrown their childish quarrels by now, some things would never change.

After the match, Harry had found excuses to take his time in the showers, relishing the memories evoked by the familiar smells and sights, dreaming of the past while the others had already gone off to celebrate. It seemed he wasn't the only one.

Malfoy's hands slowly traced his collarbone, and Harry's breath hitched. At such a close distance, and with nothing but their towels between them, there was no way to hide his body's reaction, and it made Malfoy's grin widen even further. Though he himself was by no means unaffected, Harry couldn't help but notice.

"Granger is bloody gorgeous, too." Malfoy's silky voice had him hypnotized, or at least it was the only explanation Harry had for why he didn't turn and walk away. Malfoy chuckled. "Funny that the two of you should have discovered your feelings for each other after all this time. Though, really, I'm just glad she didn't end up with Weasley. He would have been in way over his head."

"Yeah. Funny," Harry croaked in agreement, because really, there was nothing else to say. Draco's analysis was spot on.

Ron and Hermione had lasted for all of two weeks after their final exams. After one particularly epic quarrel involving lots of shouting and wand-waving, she had disappeared without leaving an address. Both Ron and Harry, who had feebly tried to defend his best friend's point of view, had been taken by surprise by the extent of her fury. Later, they had learned that she had moved to Paris, of all places. To be honest, Harry hadn't been sure they would ever see her again.

Ginny and he hadn't fared much better, much to her mother's chagrin. She was engaged to be married to a bloke from the ministry now. Decent chap, from what Harry had heard. Ah, well. They had all been much too young, really. And wasn't it silly, the way everyone had expected those teenage romances to last a lifetime?

Yet, when he had run into Hermione again, two years ago, they had both known immediately that this was it. They had been all over each other from the moment they'd met, in a Muggle bookshop close to Diagon Alley, and they had hardly been apart ever since. Ron had been mad at first, but eventually he'd come around.

"So, what do you say, Potter?" Draco's face was right before Harry's now, so close he could feel the other man's breath on his skin, so close he was drowning in those cool, grey eyes. "Would you and your charming girlfriend consider coming to my place tomorrow night? For... dinner?"

Without waiting for an answer, Malfoy crossed the distance between them, catching Harry's lips in a kiss. It started out slow, almost tentative, but turned frantic at shocking speed. Before he knew it, Harry found himself pressed hard against Malfoy, cupping his ass through the thin towel, moaning into his mouth as their erections rubbed against each other. He was dizzy with arousal, more than ready to take this further, when Malfoy suddenly let go of his lips and took a step backward, breathing heavily.

"Well?" Draco tilted his head to the side, smiling with just a hint of malice. "Will you come?"

Harry's throat was almost too dry to speak, but he nodded. "I'll talk to her."

"Good. Send me an owl." With a final flash of his teeth at him, Malfoy was gone.

Harry leaned back against the wall, willing his erection to subside. "Merlin!" This reunion had just taken a completely unexpected turn. Unexpected, but by no means unwelcome.

* * *

><p>Hermione yawned and stretched, wiggling out of her dress and kicking off her shoes. The reunion had been lots of fun. It had been interesting to see what had become of the others. Some had stayed around, found ministry jobs, built houses. A few were even married with kids already. Hermione made a face at her reflection in the mirror as she shook out her hair and reached for her brush. She was<em> so <em>glad she'd taken the leap and gone abroad for a while. Nothing like being on your own in a foreign city to widen your horizons. She smiled dreamily at some of the memories of her two years in Paris… Those French wizards had definitely been worth a closer look or two.

"'Mione?" Harry popped his head around the corner, eyeing her appreciatively while struggling with his tie.

He looked flushed and happy, and he'd definitely had one or two drinks too many tonight. It was a good thing she had stayed sober enough to apparate them both home to the tiny London flat they shared.

"What is it?" She rose to walk over to him and began to gently free him from the tie.

To her surprise, he seemed a little nervous when he spoke. "I… We have a dinner invitation for tomorrow, actually."

She raised an eyebrow and began to unbutton his shirt, slowly and deliberately. "Who from?"

Harry swallowed, and she noticed he was avoiding her gaze. "Draco Malfoy."

"Who?" She wasn't entirely sure she'd heard right. "But why would he-"

"Well, that's it, you know." The words were tumbling from Harry's lips in a rush now, the way they did when he was nervous about something. "He… may have something more than dinner in mind."

"Something more… Oh. Oh!" Hermione chewed her lip thoughtfully. They had talked about this, once, when they were sharing their favourite sexual fantasies. A third person in the mix… They had both admitted it would be exciting, but had agreed it would be hard to find a suitable candidate. "What makes you think that?"

Harry actually blushed. "Well, he told me how good we both looked. He was quite charming, really. And then he... He kissed me. In the showers, after the match."

"Merlin!" Hermione felt her eyes widen. "Did he really? And, did you like it?"

Harry didn't reply, and he was still avoiding her gaze, but she knew him well enough. There was a faint flush on his neck, and when she moulded herself against his body, her suspicions were confirmed. If even the memory of that kiss was enough to turn him on like this… "You want to go."

Harry's hand travelled down her naked back, pulling her even closer. "Yes. But, do you?"

She shivered under his touch, closing her eyes in pleasure while she considered her answer. If nothing else, she was curious. Would Malfoy really make a move? And, what would it be like to have them both? She truly enjoyed sex with Harry, so it wasn't as if he couldn't satisfy her. Yet, there was no denying that Malfoy was damnably attractive, with that lithe, slender body of his, and those lovely grey eyes… He had been a pain at school, but she was no longer the girl she'd been back then, and he had changed more than any of them. Besides, it was kind of a triumph, if Malfoy wanted her now, after all those snide remarks about her looks…

"Yes." Having made up her mind, she met Harry's gaze without flinching. "Let's do this. We'd never forgive ourselves if we passed up this kind of opportunity."

Harry didn't answer, but the shudder that went through his body at her reply told her more than a thousand words. Picking her up in his arms, he carried her over to their bed with ease. When he dropped her onto the sheets and reached for his belt buckle, a look of single-minded focus on his face, she couldn't hold back a happy moan. This promised to be an exciting night.

* * *

><p>Dinner at Malfoy Manor turned out to be a surprisingly enjoyable affair. The food was delicious, the wine exquisite, and Draco was a charming and impeccably polite host. Yes, Harry found he was having a splendid time. Hermione, too, from what he could tell. Fondly he watched her discuss the current political situation in wizarding Britain with Malfoy.<p>

She was so beautiful like this, her face flushed and animated, her eyes flashing fire. Her hair flowed freely over her shoulders and her curves were perfectly accentuated by her short black dress. Harry was immensely proud of her, and the heated looks Malfoy shot her only served to heighten that feeling.

"So, what do you say?" Draco got to his feet in an elegant, fluid movement. "Would you like a tour of the house? It's been extensively renovated since my parents moved out."

"Sure." Hermione allowed him to take her hand and help her up, smiling when he lifted it to his lips.

He surprised them both by turning her hand around at the last moment and breathing a kiss on her wrist. Hermione shivered visibly, and Harry felt an odd stirring of… jealousy? No, not quite. Arousal, definitely, and a strong urge to be a part of what was happening between them. Draco's eyes flickered back and forth between the two of them, and the corners of his mouth turned up in a wicked smile.

"Come on. I'm quite proud of how the place turned out."

He led them through several tastefully furnished rooms, and then up the stairs. Harry had to admit that Malfoy Manor looked a lot less stuffy and palatial than he remembered it. There were a few select pieces of modern art, which made Hermione squeal with delight, and of course she loved the library.

"And here we are. End of the tour." Draco ushered them through a door into what was quite unmistakably the master bedroom.

A large bed dominated the space. Hermione walked toward it, her hips swinging seductively. Malfoy let the door fall shut behind him with an audible thud, leaning against it and watching them both, his grey eyes clear and intent.

When Hermione turned around, she looked uncertain. "What now?"

Draco smiled. "Whatever you want."

Slowly, he advanced toward her, stopping when he was right in front of her, and glancing at Harry, a question in his eyes. Harry nodded, once again tongue-tied. Still moving at a careful pace, giving her lots of time to pull back if she wanted to, Draco bent down to kiss Hermione.

The moment their lips met, she moaned, soft and low, and Harry couldn't bear just to watch them any longer. Two quick steps took him right behind her, embracing her, running his hands up her body to cup her breasts. She moaned again, arching into his touch, and he felt her nipples harden under his hands.

When Draco finally pulled back a little, her lips were swollen from his kiss, full and red and delectable. Locking eyes with her, Draco slowly unbuttoned his shirt, then shrugged it off. His skin was pale, but perfect, smooth and soft, and Harry couldn't resist reaching past Hermione to touch him.

"You, too, Potter." Draco's eyes were dark, his pupils widely blown. "Let me see."

"Harry," Hermione corrected him, placing a finger on his mouth.

"Harry," Draco acquiesced, but his eyes crinkled with amusement, and before she could pull back her finger, he had already caught it between his teeth and sucked hard on it.

She reacted with a full-body shudder, and just like that, Harry was fully hard. With shaking hands, he took off his own shirt, then his pants, adding them to the growing pile of clothes on the floor. Draco followed suit, leaving them both in nothing but their boxers.

"You're overdressed, love," Harry breathed into Hermione's ear, and she made a small, humming noise of agreement.

"Well, that's easily fixed," Draco drawled, running a teasing finger along the cleavage of her dress. "Harry?"

He nodded, finding her zipper and sliding it slowly down. The dress slid off her shoulders, pooling at her feet, and Draco was immediately down on his knees to help her step out of it and take off her shoes. Underneath the dress, she was wearing a set of black, lacy lingerie Harry had given her for her last birthday. She looked stunning in it, as she well knew. Stunning and sexy and sinfully gorgeous.

Draco seemed to agree with this assessment, judging from the low sound emerging from his throat. He was hard, too, and obviously bothered by his boxers. With an impatient huff, he got rid of them. Harry did the same, glancing over briefly, unable to resist the urge to compare. No need to worry, though. Draco was an impressive size, but then, Harry had never had a reason to be self-conscious either.

Draco was still kneeling at Hermione's feet, so the next step seemed obvious. With a quick glance up at her face, he firmly took hold of her thighs and pulled her closer, placing a soft kiss on her through the silky fabric of her panties. Harry's own hands found her breasts again, kneading them softly. Between the two of them, they soon had her writhing and begging, swaying on her feet, only held upright by Harry's firm grip.

When Draco pulled down her panties with a final flourish and Harry sneaked a hand between her legs, she was soaking wet. On impulse, he extended his glistening fingers to Draco who eagerly caught them between his lips, tasting her with relish. Harry felt his cock twitch at the sight.

"Merlin, Gr-" Draco caught himself just in time. "Hermione. Will you let me…" He reached past her into the drawer of the bedside table, producing a stack of condoms.

"Yes. Please." Hermione's fingers tightened on Draco's shoulders. "Is this okay, Harry?"

He nodded. "More than okay."

Draco quickly rolled on the condom, unfazed by their eyes on him. "How do we do this?"

Hermione hesitated for a moment, but then a familiar look of determination appeared on her face. Shrugging off her bra, she climbed on the bed and arranged herself on her hands and knees, wiggling her ass enticingly at them. Draco didn't need to be asked twice. Moving behind her, he placed one hand on her hips and used the other one to guide himself into her.

Harry couldn't take his eyes off the scene unfolding on the bed. He hadn't expected this to be such a massive turn-on, watching the woman he loved being taken by another man, but it was immensely exciting. The expression on her face as Draco slowly pushed deeper; the way she arched her back to help him find the perfect angle; the fine sheen of sweat on her skin that made her hair cling to her back…. He was aching with the need to have her, to make love to her, to _fuck_ her. It was an exquisite torture to find himself relegated to mere spectator, and yet he didn't want to miss a second of this. Draco, too, was beautiful: the deep frown of concentration on his face as he held back; the tension in his slim body; and the sheer grace of his movements.

A heart-felt sigh of longing escaped Harry's lips, and Hermione's eyes opened, fixing on him with a mischievous gleam. "Come here."

He gasped when he realized what she had in mind. Kneeling before her, he buried his hands in her long hair, his head flying back on a long sigh when her lips closed around him. Draco echoed his groan, his hands tightening visibly on Hermione's hips as he slowed down to give her a chance to concentrate on what she was doing to Harry.

Harry was beyond words, beyond thoughts even, unable to focus on anything but _yes, good, more, don't stop_. Hermione's mouth on him felt so amazingly good, hot and moist and _perfect_, and he couldn't possibly last long like this. When he came, the rush of pleasure was so overwhelming that he actually shouted out loud, his vision going white for a moment.

Draco had been watching him avidly, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. When Harry pulled back, he turned his attention back to Hermione, his hips moving faster now as he pounded into her with increased vigour. She moaned and trembled, but Harry knew it wouldn't be enough. Moving behind them, he took one of Draco's hands, breathing a quick kiss on his shoulder blade.

"Wait. She needs-" He guided Draco's hand around her body, down between her legs.

As soon as their entwined fingers touched her, Hermione cried out, her whole body going taut. It only took a few quick, light strokes to send her over the edge, with Draco immediately following her. It was the hottest thing Harry had ever experienced, both of them coming practically in his arms, both of them going soft and boneless against him.

They all tumbled onto the mattress afterwards, sweaty and exhausted. Draco stared up at the ceiling, his face unreadable, while Hermione snuggled into Harry's arms. For a moment, Harry was unsure of what to say or do, but then he decided that this was not the moment to overthink things.

"Draco?" When the other man shot him a questioning glance, he reached out to pull him closer. "Thank you. That was..."

"Marvellous? Amazing? Mind blowing?" Draco suggested. "Merlin, yes. We should do that again some time."

"We definitely should," Hermione agreed.

Harry sighed contentedly. For the life of him, he could see no reason to contradict them.

* * *

><p><em>Hugs and thanks to my wonderful beta suilven. <em>


	2. Chapter 2

**The Invitation – chapter 2**

Finding another opportunity to be together again proved trickier than any of them had anticipated.

First, Harry got called away on an urgent mission to the Outer Hebrides. A tribe of selkies had abducted a group of New Age tourists who had unwittingly summoned them by dancing naked on the beaches of Barra. Convincing them to give up their prey was no easy feat. Harry returned with a few nasty bite wounds that kept the healers at St Mungo's busy for more than a week.

They tried to find another suitable date, but it was Draco's turn to cancel next. One of his great-grand-aunts died in Antibes, leaving him a lovely villa on the Cote d'Azur. Unfortunately, the property turned out to be haunted by the ghosts of a Roman centurion and his beautiful Gallic lover who kept re-enacting their tragic love affair. Hermione was glad to help Draco out with a few translations from Latin, but the fact remained that he had to deal with the problem first. So, their plans had to be postponed again.

Hermione was getting impatient. Nearly three months had passed since their first encounter at Malfoy Manor. She had enjoyed the attentions of the two men a lot, and she wanted more. Her curiosity wasn't remotely sated yet, and besides, she was eager to explore a few scenarios she had found on the internet when she'd googled poly relationships.

"Really, 'Mione?" Harry had rolled his eyes at her attempts at research. "This is not a school assignment. I doubt knowing the theory will help us here."

But, she wasn't fooled. Several times, she'd caught him glancing at her laptop screen with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. He was just as curious as she was.

In the end, they decided to simply invite Draco to their London flat for drinks on a Saturday night. Hermione had cast a number of charms on the upper floors of the old house on Grimmauld Place, turning it from a gloomy, forbidding mausoleum into a warm and inviting space with a nice view of the Lake District. It wasn't huge, but it had been completely refurbished, and Hermione had made sure there were plenty of cosy corners for reading and snuggling up together. She was glad for a chance to show Draco that their home was just as nice as his, even if it was a lot less impressive from the outside.

But, on the morning of their date, Hermione awoke with a stuffed nose and an ear-splitting headache. She knew from experience that healing spells were all but useless against common colds. She could alleviate the pain, but apart from that, she had no choice but to let nature run its course. Which meant that, instead of an alluring sex goddess, she'd be a sniffling wretch tonight.

Harry took one good look at her and sighed resignedly. "I'll send him an owl. You need peace and quiet, not-"

"Wait." She stopped him with a hand on his arm. "I don't want to cancel again."

He shrugged. "Neither do I. But I don't think you'll be up for any _vigorous activities_ tonight." He accompanied his words with an exaggerated wiggle of his eyebrows that made her laugh, even though her throat hurt.

"Probably not," she conceded. "But, you know… I could still enjoy the show."

"You mean…" Harry sighed. "Look, 'Mione, I know you're in love with the idea of watching us. And I certainly wouldn't be opposed to it, but we can't be sure that's what Mal-, what _Draco_ wants. Last time-"

"Oh, please, Harry." Hermione sneezed violently. "He kept staring at you, and he was eager enough to kiss you, wasn't he? I'll owl him and ask what he thinks."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but he was fighting a losing battle, and he knew it. Hermione grinned to herself, reaching for a tissue. She'd be damned if she couldn't persuade them.

* * *

><p>Draco arrived early, dressed casually in black jeans and a charcoal turtleneck sweater that emphasized his slim build. He embraced Harry briefly, and Harry had to admit it felt nice. Briefly, he wondered what his fourteen-year-old self would have thought about this scenario. <em>I'd probably have hexed everyone who suggested it.<em> He had to smile at the thought.

In the meantime, Draco had wandered over to Hermione, who had made herself comfortable on the couch with a big, fluffy blanket. The dark red nightdress she'd put on was warm and comfy rather than sexy, and even though the colour flattered her, it did nothing to show off her body. There were dark rings under her eyes and her hair was an untamed mess.

"Merlin, Granger, you look like-" He caught himself just in time. "Well, let's say you've looked better. Here." Handing her a small packet, he sat down cross-legged on the floor next to her, peering up at her through his thick, blond lashes.

"Well, thank you very much, Mr Malfoy." Hermione glared at him, putting on her best prefect tone. "What did you- Oh! You brought me tea?"

"My mother's special recipe against head colds. Ginger and Moroccan mint." Draco grinned smugly, obviously proud that he'd managed to surprise her. "Should make you feel better soon."

"That's… that's actually really sweet of you." Hermione sniffled a little, and Harry wasn't sure if it was the cold or if she was genuinely touched by the gesture. "Who would have thought you had it in you?"

"Come on, now." Draco's grin widened even further. "Don't forget I'm an evil Slytherin. I probably have some ulterior motive in getting your nose unstuffed. Such as making sure you can breathe freely while you-"

"Draco!" Hermione did a good job of pretending to be scandalized, but Harry wasn't fooled. He knew she loved a good innuendo as much as the next person.

"Give me the packet," was all he said aloud. "I'll make you a nice cup of tea."

"Put in some honey," Draco helpfully supplied. "And maybe a dash of lemon."

He got to his feet and followed Harry to the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe and watching as he put on the kettle. Draco's gaze was openly appraising, and Harry was glad he'd taken care to look nice tonight. After some consideration, he'd settled for a tight blue long-sleeve shirt that brought out the colour of his eyes and showed off his well-toned upper body. The look in Draco's eyes left no doubt that he appreciated the effort.

"Here. Can you take this to her?" Harry handed Draco the steaming cup, doing his best to seem nonchalant. He wasn't nervous, exactly, just… unsure of how to proceed from here.

"Sure." Draco didn't move immediately, though, just stayed where he was, barring the way to the living room, still with that infuriating smile on his lips.

The kitchen was small, and they were standing close to each other, so close they were almost touching. Draco was a good three inches taller, and Harry had to tilt his head up to look into his eyes. Which was… hot in a way, but also a little irritating. Harry bit back a sigh. Draco's lips twitched, but he didn't say what amused him so much. Instead, he finally turned on his heels and made his way over to the couch.

Hermione greeted them with a grateful smile, which turned into an expression of sheer bliss when she took her first sip of the tea. "Merlin, this is so good."

"Drink it up." Draco was watching her intently. "I swear, as soon as you feel better, I'll start thinking about other ways to put that look on your face."

Harry cleared his throat. The image Draco's words conjured was… intriguing, to say the least. "Would you like a drink, then?"

"Absolutely." Draco was back at his side in a flash, inspecting their little bar with interest. "Mmmhmm, you've got a nice selection of Scotch whiskies here, Potter."

"Harry." Hermione corrected him in a nasal voice. "And those are mine. But feel free to have a glass. Both of you. Maybe that will speed things up."

"Why are you in such a hurry?" Draco flashed her another provocative grin. "I didn't know you were so impatient. Now, I..." He glanced at Harry over the rim of his glass as he took a deep draught, savouring the taste of the whisky. "I like to take my time enjoying the good things in life."

"You do?" Harry was surprised how husky his own voice sounded, far more suggestive than he'd intended.

There was something about being here with Draco that brought out this side in him, as if the presence of the infamous Slytherin freed him to be a little more naughty than usual. Hermione, too, from what he'd observed during their time at Malfoy Manor. Maybe that wasn't surprising. People expected the heroes of the Wizarding War to be above reproach in all matters, and if he was honest, it was exhausting being a shining beacon of moral excellence all the time.

Whatever the reason, having Draco here, in their living room, his eyes burning deeply into Harry's as he took another sip, was a huge thrill. Plucking up his courage, Harry took the glass from his hands and put it aside, then leaned in for a kiss. It was shy and tentative at first, but Draco's lips opened willingly under his, his tongue darting out to tease Harry's lower lip.

With a groan, Harry delved in deeper, eager to explore that wicked mouth. Draco tasted of smoke and peat, the rich, heady aroma of the Island whisky, mixed with his own unique flavour, and it was a truly intoxicating cocktail. He lost himself in that kiss for what seemed like an eternity, all conscious thought forgotten. It was just like their first kiss in the changing room, just as incredibly intense, and yet it was better, deeper, full of promise.

When Harry regained his senses, they were grinding against each other, their bodies only separated by the thin layer of their clothing, and suddenly even that was too much. He needed to get them out of the way, and he tore impatiently at Draco's clothes.

"Careful. That's my favourite sweater." Draco pretended to be amused, but his eyes were dark with arousal and the tips of his fingers were digging deep into Harry's back.

"Get it off," Harry growled, dimly aware that Hermione was watching them from her vantage point on the couch, her eyes wide with fascination.

"Not going to argue. Just let me-" Draco pushed him back a little and grabbed the hem of the offending garment with both hands, slowly pulling it up to reveal his pale torso.

Harry followed suit, yanking off his own shirt with more speed than grace. Moments later, they were embracing again, and it felt incredibly good, that whole expanse of smooth, hard flesh his to touch and to caress. Draco responded eagerly, moaning unrestrainedly when Harry cupped him through his pants.

"Merlin, Harry, that feels-" He broke off and dropped to his knees in one smooth move. And then his mouth was on Harry, hot and wonderful even through the fabric of his jeans. "Damn it, get those off. I need-"

Harry didn't need to be asked twice. If Draco needed it, he _craved_ it, with an urgency that left him breathless. As soon as Draco's lips closed around him, his vision went white and he had to hold on to the other man's shoulders for balance. _So good._

* * *

><p>Hermione could no longer keep her hands still. She had anticipated that watching the two of them would be hot, but nothing could have prepared her for the reality of it. Here they were, right before her, so close she could hear every whimper and see every twitch and shiver. The whole set-up was incredibly exciting, enough to make her forget how lousy she felt, at least for a while.<p>

It was almost enough just to watch the expressions on their faces, Draco's hungry and predatory, Harry's full of abandon. Almost, but not quite, because there was so much more to take in: their naked bodies, each beautiful in their own right, Draco's lips wrapped around Harry's hardness, his hand dropping down to free his own cock from the confines of his pants, closing tightly around his length. It was better than anything she had seen online, better than anything she had imagined in her fevered fantasies, because it was real, and it was _them_.

With shaking fingers, Hermione pushed down her panties. She was wet, soaking wet, and her fingers slid easily between her folds. Just then, Harry glanced up, and his eyes met hers, widening when he saw what she was doing.

"Merlin, 'Mione!" There was a tremble in his voice, but he held her gaze, his green eyes more intense than she'd ever seen them, his hands tightening on Draco's shoulders until his knuckles went white.

Draco let go of him for a heartbeat, but didn't turn around, just glanced up at Harry, giving him a few lazy strokes with his hand. "What is she doing? Tell me." His voice was dark as sin, and it sent another flash of heat to her core.

Before Harry could even reply, Draco went back to what he'd been doing, tearing another whine from Harry's lips. "Damn it, Draco, how do you expect me to _tell you_ when you-" He took a deep breath, trying to collect himself. "She's touching herself. Stroking herself. It's… Merlin, it's _so hot_." His voice broke on the last two words.

Draco made a low humming noise of approval and Harry cursed again, swaying on his feet. Hermione increased the pressure, her hand moving as fast as she could. She was so close already, so very close, and hearing Harry's words had brought her even closer to the edge. He must have realized, because he kept talking, gasping between words, the muscles in his stomach rippling convulsively.

"She… Draco, she's so beautiful like this, hot and flushed, and-" He broke off, biting his lips hard, his eyes clenched shut. "Whatever you do, please don't stop now, please don't, please-"

He was practically shouting, his whole body taut as a rope, then going limp as he came with a last, violent shudder. Draco let go of him with a triumphant laugh and grabbed himself harder, finishing with two hard strokes. The sight of him coming was the last straw. Hermione arched up high, every cell of her body flooded with a pleasure so intense she nearly passed out.

When she came to her senses again, Harry was at her side, embracing her gently, kissing her sweat-soaked forehead.

"Hey." His voice sounded hoarse – no wonder, really.

Harry wasn't usually this vocal in bed, but she had _liked_ it, she definitely had. Hermione had never seen anything more beautiful than the way he had lost control just now. He was still naked, and his skin was warm and flushed, though not as hot as hers. Draco had peeled off his pants, too, and was leaning against the mantelpiece, completely unconcerned about his nakedness, watching them with an easy smile. Suddenly, Hermione felt enormously tired. When she yawned, Harry's mouth twitched.

"Come on, love. I'll take you to bed." He picked her up and carried her over to the bedroom, lowering her gently onto the sheets.

Her eyes closed the moment her head hit the pillow, but she managed to blink at him sleepily. "Will you be all right?"

"Oh yes." Harry glanced over at the doorway with a grin. "I'm sure we will be perfectly fine."

* * *

><p><em>Big hugs and thanks to my lovely beta suilven!<br>_


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